Repercussions of an Earworm: Dirty Bit
by Psychochiquita
Summary: Sexytimes ahead with these music inspired OS's surrounding our favorite couple. Varying genre's and lengths. Kids, STAY OUT!
1. Index

Dirty dirty ditties is all these are, pure sinful no-nos for you dirty bastards. I love y'all, enjoy.

 **Chapter 1; Index**

 **Chapter 2:** **"** **Judas** **" or "The Struggle Within Roxanne Ritchie"** **  
**During a class reunion Roxanne comes to terms with something she's been holding back from herself, dancing along the fine line between good and ee-vil.

 **Chapter 3:** " **Houstatlantavegas** **"  
** He didn't mean to linger. At least not at first…

 **Chapter 4: TBC  
**


	2. Judas

**Sorry it's so ridiculously** **long, I have this** _ **really**_ **bad habit of putting bits in, and adding, and adding, and adding-oh no wait take that out, and adding... after which It just builds (as some of you might've noticed from my other songfic,** _ **The Empty Orchestra**_ **, since It was supposed to be a short one-shot but ended up being cut in half as an independent for being over 13k words).**

 **As I mentioned before, these OS's are in no way intertwined, and if so I will make it** _ **crystal clear**_ **when they are.**

 **Plus, you do not have to listen to the song before or during the fic (trust me, don't read and listen, just gonna leave a looong ass empty silence before you reach the end) but it does help if you have foreknowledge of the song to understand the mood or scenario.**

 **Shit has gone poopy on me, and I'm hyped up on horse pills and restlessness from the E.R visit.  
But I do hope this makes up for it.**

 **2/24/2017  
"Judas" or "The Struggle Within Roxanne Ritchie"  
During a class reunion Roxanne comes to terms with something she's been holding back from herself, dancing along the fine line between good and ee-vil.**

 **"Inspired by" songfic, minimal lyrics in the story itself.**

 **Words;**

 **7k, 5hunned-something**

 **Mood;  
Um,.. saucy? Its a little blunt and risque, with sass. Lots of sass.**

 **Characters;  
OC's, Roxanne Ritchie, Metro Man (or **

_**IS**_ **it?...)**

 **Obligatory warning;  
Rated M for a reason, kiddies! I will not be held responsible if you're caught reading no-no's.**

 **"Judas" by Lady Gaga,**

 **Born This Way.** **  
**

* * *

"You know sometimes I can't believe you, of _all people_ would end up in a committed relationship with a man like him-I mean seriously you weren't even into the jocks in school and we had _puh-len-tee_ to choose from, and yet here you are with _the_ epitome of a perfect man; tall tan handsome _and_ a fucking superhero _goddamn_ Roxanne you outdid yourself on that one," comes out rushed through gloss stained lips as the ravenette raises a glass half emptied out of its vodka punch to take a drink.

After gulping the rest of the contents down, she swings the empty glass around before settling down and using it to point at a buzzed Roxanne who is squinting back at her friends; Alva with her straight, dark hair cut into blunt bangs dressed in a corset and leather leggings, leaning her entire right side into Anthony's heavy set body who is too drunk to stand up on his own without letting go of the bar they were currently standing next to (or in Anthony's case, sleeping on).

While still struggling to swallow the last drops of liquid down she shakes her tumbler towards Roxanne, ice tinkling noisily in the glass while clearing her mouth in big dramatic gulps and finally manages to say "Remember Cody Bryers? He didn't know how to take no for an answer, and it seemed like he made it a life goal to sleep with every girl in school. Or at least try. He was so persistent on you going out with him at the end he didn't even care if it didn't lead to sex, he just wanted to brag about finally being able to have you in his car. Man, that idiot thought he was god's gift to the ladies-"

"Oh my god! There was even that time he wore a t-shirt designed to look like a gift box and he had a tag hanging from it with _THAT EXACTLY_ written on it!" Roxanne cut in, suddenly remembering the Friday before Christmas break of their senior year, when the young football player had been walking around saying "you're welcome" to any girl who made eye contact with him, wearing a red shirt that had a green ribbon and bow printed on it. She groaned at the memory while rubbing her eyes with her thumb and forefinger, her other hand meeting her lips as she nursed on her highball.

Alva's brown eyes widened as she furiously shook her head in agreement, her left hand holding out the empty glass with the index finger pointed out towards Roxanne "Yes, that! Holy shit did we go to school with a bunch of narcissistic assholes-" "Buh nod me, wry? I was no ass sole-" suddenly comes from the head resting on its side on the wooden bar, Anthony slurringly trying to hop into the conversation in his defense.

He turns to meet them but squints for a moment before realizing his glasses are missing. Alva pulls them down from his forehead with her right hand and responds "No sweetheart, you only _think_ you fall under the category because you were a receiver on the team but honey, you were also in both the song writers _and_ home ec clubs. That's about the gayest shit you've ever done."

Blinking through his glasses, he raises one eyebrow before responding "Other than your brother?" to which Alva smirks and replies "No, that's just being a homosexual. There's a difference. "

Roxanne laughs as Anthony gives them a smug smile and sticks out his tongue, the piercing on the tip shining off the spinning laser lights on the ceiling. Alva pats down his dress vest and sticks her arm over him, shaking her glass along with the dozens of gold bangles that hang off her wrist trying to get the bartenders attention for another drink while signing to Roxanne if she needs another. Roxanne waves her off, holding up the glass in her hand that was only sipped on twice and turns in a half circle to rest her back on the bar while propping her elbows behind her for support, staring out to the rest of the hotel venue where a good amount of their former classmates where dancing.

"I don't even know why I agreed to come to this, I thought it would've been put on hold 'til the 15 year anniversary," Roxanne whines as she looks over her shoulder towards her two drunk friends fighting over a glass the bartender had just set down. They both look at her with surprised faces while both pairs of hands are wrapped around the short glass. "Drinks?" they say simultaneously as Alva elbows Anthony to get his own, him grunting and turning back to the counter with arms extended to get the server back down their half of the bar.

Still leaning on his back, Alva says "Hey, at least Megamind didn't blow this one up. The only reason it took so long was because most of his fights would occur coincidentally in the general area of where the reunions were being held. They could only rent so many venues out before having to wait a whole year to settle on a new place," she pauses to take a drink, where Anthony gives a sideways stare and cuts in himself, "I'd say he's trying to keep you from comin' to your own class reunion, if you were to ask me."

"Pish, what? No way, that's, ha! The-that right there is hilarious," Roxanne blurts out, hoping it was dark enough in the room that her blush wouldn't show through, and tries to stop talking while raising her glass back to her lips.

She had found it odd herself the first time that one of his disastrous plans had fallen apart near the dance hall that had been rented out for her school's alumni, shaking it off as mere coincidence. Until it happened three more times, and the school had to push it back another year until they could get the funding's through to rent a proper place and afford an insurance plan, just in case. She would've put it all on Megamind had it not been for her bringing it up during one of the kidnappings that she wasn't too keen on showing up to the party, her experience through high school being less than appealing.

Finally, during one of his schemes a few months back, she got up enough courage to confront him while his back was turned, distracted with running the mechanics that took up an entire wall of buttons and screens.

"Look Megamind, I, couldn't help but notice how every one of your battles has been ending in complete destruction," ( _No shit,_ _S_ _herlock_ ) "and I know this might come out weird and I might be wrong in asking this, but do you think you could, you know, stop, having them so close to my class reunion venues? It's just, even if you're not doing it on purpose it's starting to get stressful on the committee when they have to put everything down to start from scratch and-"

"Miss Ritchie, I can assure you I haven't the slightest idea of what you're implying." he interrupted, turning from the wall with a hurt look. "Me? Purposefully destroying a welcoming party for Metrocity's most revered damsel, along with her shool mates? Preposterous." he denied, claiming a face of innocence while holding a fanned hand to his cheek.

"However!" he exclaimed, raising a pointed finger dramatically as he shoved himself from the wall, his chair rolling alongside her, " If it is my safety you're worried about, I'll stop staging battles in such grandeur as to not cause total collateral damage to the city.., and myself." he finished, holding an open palm against his chest while wiggling an eyebrow towards her.

Flabbergasted, she gasped for words to throw back at him "Ha! As if! ( _always_ ) It's not for my sake genius, there's classmates of mine out there who are genuinely looking forward to this, ( _even if I'm not one of them_ ) and all those stupid battles you've been throwing really did a number on putting it on hold. The faster they can get it together the sooner ( _I can get it over with_ ) they can throw the party and have everyone finally reunited."

Still holding one eyebrow up, he continued giving her his pointed look as he said "Oh, oh-ho! I see what this is all really about". She coiled into herself waiting for him to point out the obvious, although she momentarily forgot not everything is crystal clear for a genius who could be denser than packed concrete.

"You just want to go yourself so you can show off to your classmates, don't you?" he asked, a grin spread across his face.

And looking into the crowd of buzzed late twenty-something year old's from the dark corner of the bar, most not really have succeeding in much while others already making great strides for themselves, she wonders if any of them could have imagined ten years ago where they would end up now. She figures not much changes for those who don't fight the current, but she could have never fathomed how her journalistic career would balloon in less than a decade or her importance to the city when it came to the routine Megamind slash Metro Man battles.

That one she still struggles to believe every once in a while.

"Pth, who does he think he is anyway? 'Oh look at me with my giant brain and complex plans', ha, I would expect more from someone with such a big head to have less hot air in it," Alva suddenly says, startling Roxanne from her thoughts. She laughs for a moment when the sentence reaches her ( _full of hot air, gotta use that one next time_ ) before she tenses up at the realization of Alva bringing up what she had just been distracted with.

 _why is she talking about Megamind? wait, what are we talking about again?_

"That jerk was lucky someone pitched in anonymously to set the reunion straight so we could have a decent party and a good time," she continued on in an angry rant, not necessarily directing her anger towards anything other than her drink in hand.

 _oh thank god, for a second I thought I said his name out loud again._

"He's always spouting on about his plans on taking the city but never actually _does_ anything that would work. All that back and forth between you guys you say you have, sounds like he's not only challenging your boyfriend but you too. And the MONOLOGUING. What is it with bad guys and Monologuing?" she whines, Anthony looking over his shoulder with a fresh drink in hand and Roxanne just laughing along in agreement, noting Alva's use of the word "bad".

She had confided in both of them her belief that Megamind wasn't necessarily evil, he just seemed to be putting on a show for the city and its citizens, because before the cameras turned on he had another side to himself he didn't reveal to anyone else other than Minion, and herself. She was glad her friends saw it the way she did, and have even grown to unconsciously avoid unnecessary nouns when describing him when all he was, was well, bad.

She hadn't, however, confided in them the fact that there was nothing going on between her and Metro Man. How there never was anything to begin with, or how because of their fabricated on-air relationship she hasn't had an actual _date_ let alone gotten laid in years. But that's something she keeps between herself and her vibrator.

Alva hadn't stopped talking, being somewhere in the neighborhood of commenting on Megamind's choice attire. "And those outfits! Puh-lease, girl you know I'm not the only one curious as to what's going on under there, shit's so tight hardly leaves anything to imagination. How he's able to move in it with such flexibility is beyond me." she says, finishing off by murmuring into her drink "I wonder if he has underwear made out of that, I'd _kill_ for some form fitting spanks while still being able to breathe."

Roxanne chokes on her drink, to her friends amusement believing it was from humor but not seeing the blush creeping across her nose and cheeks again as her imagination goes wild with what Megamind is _really_ hiding underneath his suit and cape.

The three of them place their now empty glasses down on the polished wood before Anthony chimes into the conversation "You just better be glad he doesn't know when to quit, otherwise you'd run out of features to lead up to. The fact that you're in the middle of all his schemes only solidifies your spot in the station."

That sobers her up quicker than she likes. She always knew she was extremely lucky (one were to quickly disagree "luck" would be the appropriate word) to have her spot in the recurring stories that were of Megamind and Metro Man's battles because it had carried her so far into her career without the worry of being replaced or demoted. Deep in her thoughts she wonders why he even chose her to begin with. She wasn't very well known in the field before the "Dino suit" fight, the news station wasn't even in the top five spot back then, _hell,_ a rival station had sent out their best reporter who had caught the attention of many viewers over her fascinating beauty ( _because heaven knows the lights are on but no one is home inside that pretty head of hers_ ).

What made her different than the rest? She wasn't the only one that stood their ground during that fight, he could've held his gun up to anyone else in that crowd but _noo_ , he had to choose her, had to have the nobody that was Roxanne Ritchie even though her own boss couldn't get her name right after been working in the station for over a year ( _kept calling me Rachel for fucks sake_ ).

She stares sightlessly into the dancing crowd, her glazed eyes rolling over the fleshy mess of unrhythmic grinding that was fueled by alcohol and hormones. She almost pushes herself off the bar when her eyes fixate on a couple of shoes differing from the rest of the crowd. A pair of leather boots stride across the dance floor, eerily familiar in design and style to a pair she's accustomed to seeing frequently.

However as she follows the boots up towards the rest of the body, she doesn't understand why she's disappointed to find them leading up to firm legs belonging to a dark-haired man in a leather bomber jacket. She shifts her weight from one leg to the other as she keeps staring at the strangers' movements; the way he swings his hips to the beat, the roll of his shoulders and how his head sways in tempo to the background bass, the feathering of his quiff haircut barely fanning out of place with the movements.

During a head roll he turns his head to face her first, followed by the rest of his body, and she feels her breath hitch in her chest. There's a strip of hair going down his pointed chin that meets his bottom lip. Reflexively she brings her eyes up to his closed eyelids and she beckons him to open them from across the room, almost pleading inside her head. For a split second he does, his eyes flutter for a moment as they lock gazes from each side of the venue. Him basking in the dark of the dance floor where the beat ran heavy and the only lights came from the strobes and colorful spinning dance fixtures on the ceiling, her in the warm glow of the dim overhead L.E.D's that lined the cabinets overhead the bar, the music just as loud but not as intimidating.

She stares hard, trying to make out the shape of his eyes, fighting against the darkness to at least make out the color, imagining them being blue but telling herself they're _green_.

 _green? what the hell, Roxanne?_

Just as quickly that their eye contact has been made does a woman coming in from the crowd break it, standing directly between Roxanne and the dark figure. By the nodding of the heads she assumes the blonde is offering a dance when she starts swinging herself around and the man tries to follow with the jerky dancing, his movements more fluid and coordinated than the whole of the floor combined.

 _Must not have enough alcohol in his system. It's a wonder they haven't run out yet.  
_  
"And who's bright idea was it to have an open bar?" Roxanne finally calls out, without so much as taking a glance off the dancing duo. Alva simply shrugged and replied "I dunno, but I'm sure running out of things I've always wanted to try but never had the time or cash. So far I like Manhattans best." "Mojitos!" Anthony interjects, not raising his head from where it's rested on his crossed arms sprawled across the wooden counter.

The two women laugh as Alva motions for Roxanne to take one of the two shots placed between them. Anthony, hearing the sound of another potential drink, comes back to life and snaps his head up to the disappointment of seeing only two glasses. Frowning, he spins around and whines "Where's mine?" to which his friends simultaneously call out a firm "NO", Roxanne explaining "You started doing that 'numb tongue' thing that you _only_ do when you're a couple of drinks away from emptying out your stomach."

"Yeah, and I don't need you hurling all over my car, or apartment." Alva added in before the two raise their arms to shoot the warming liquor down. Anthony's eyes widen up suddenly and he starts fanning out his hands, swinging his left arm violently into Alva's chest before she's able to fully bring her arm back down.

"Oh god not now Anthony, NO!" she calls out as she puts the glass back on the counter and tries to hold his arm down. He starts motioning with his head over Roxanne's shoulders as Alva follows his gaze and mutters "Well shit on toast."

Roxanne had directed her gaze back to the crowd to find the dancer among the drunks after placing her glass back on the counter and was oblivious to the panic her two friends were sharing aside her.

"Cody Bryers." Alva says again, her voice oddly monotone, beckoning Roxanne to turn to them with puzzlement. "Yeah, we just talked about him. Remember? Once is enough." she says with a slight note of irritation in her voice, evident she doesn't want to talk about the former football player any longer.

"Tell that to him." Alva says in a low warning, never taking her eyes off something in the distance behind Roxanne to which she turns around to follow her stare.

Like a flashback to her teenage years, Cody Bryers is walking towards her at the head of a formation, his second hands walking on either side of him as a posse of former leather-heads group behind them, all in their letterman jackets. On the corner of his is a _Hello, I'm:_ sticker, underneath written in a scrawl "God's gift to the ladies".

 _some things just never..._

With a groan, Roxanne rolls herself over towards the bar to attempt to wave down the bartender to call for another drink before he can make his way down towards her and she'd have to deal with whatever came out of his mouth.

Rolling back towards the dance floor, she presumes to down whatever is left in her glass and stare out mindlessly into the crowd.

"My my, if it isn't Roxanne Ritchie. Tell me honey, how'd you manage to grow up and fill in all the right places?" she hears from her right, making her wish she had taken up Alva's offer earlier on another glass.

With a groan she speaks out "The same way you managed to stay the same. No effort."

The blonde man gives a scoff and leans into the counter next to her, the group of followers crowding behind him in various poses they deemed "intimidating".

Trying to divert the conversation away from Roxanne, Anthony waves the blonde down to look over in his direction.

"Dude, back in high school I was like, totally gay for you." he says with incredulity, drawing a small smile from his girlfriends and a questioning stare from one of the jocks in the group.

"But I thought you _were_ gay?" the jock asks, looking down the short stout man with his sticker reading _Hello, I'm:_ _fabulous_

"Exactly! _He_ was the one who made me realize that!" Anthony responds, nodding his blonde tipped hair rapidly towards Cody.

With a slight look of distaste he ignores Anthony, giving his attention back to Roxanne instead. "C'mon bunny, I can give you a good time around town if you want, or back at my place if you don't."

"If I need a good time I can just call my superhero boyfriend, and I'm not your pet," she mutters around the rim of her empty glass, trying to look elsewhere but his general direction.

"And what can your so called 'Hero' give you that I can't?" he asks through a pout, fluttering his eyelashes towards her.

Looking him dead in the eye, she responds "An orgasm," causing her friends behind her to snicker and struggle with keeping down their drinks.

Not finding humor in her response he leans closer, running the tips of his fingers up and down her right arm. "How would you know what it feels like if you've never hopped on for a ride?" he asks snidely.

Reeling her arm back with disgust she responds through a curled lip, "Because I'm pretty sure a swing would be more exciting than what you have to offer. Look, I'm just trying to hang out with my friends," she rushes, looking over her shoulder to give an open-eyed look of distress to her two comrades, fishing the fresh drink set on the bar for her.

Turning back to him she returns to her stone wall stare. "So could you?" she continues, motioning her head towards the dance crowd for him to leave.

"Sticks and stones baby. Although, how does the rest of the song go? 'But chains and whips excite me'?-" he asks her, leaning closer still as she stiffens herself rigid.

"-I know with the usual song and dance you deal with on a regular basis someone like you wouldn't be satisfied with a fluffed pillow and the lights turned low, you need a real man to give you what you need-"

Before he can finish his sentence Roxanne throws her fresh drink into his face, thankful to the bartender for giving her something in a flute for added dramatic effect.

"Don't you dare," she hisses through gritted teeth, lowering the glass to a slow swing by her side before placing it on the bar with a _click_ of glass on wood.

Her anger turns to distress when she meets his eyes but she stands her ground with crossed arms, his hand wiping his face free of liquid as he attempts another step closer when he stops in place and reels back suddenly, snapping his gaze up over her shoulder with fearful surprise.

"Everything alright here?" she hears behind her, a deep voice over her left shoulder out of place from her friends yet all too familiar to her rushing breath of relief.

 _although I begged him_ not _to come-,_ she thinks to herself as she turns to the hero and is greeted instead by his white and grey spandex suit, having to lift her head up to meet his eyes. He had cut in between her and her friends, standing mere inches away from her back and leaning casually into the bar although the expression on his face was one of displeasure as he stared over her towards the group of men.

"Hey, you...," she greets him with a sigh and half smile. She moves her gaze to look around the hulking figure and rolls her eyes away from both of her friends behind him, gushing and slapping each other while fawning over the city's hero.

"He-hey man, we were just talking," Cody blurts out nervously while backing away from the couple and into his group of former athletes, "You know, l-like catching up and stuff. I was just joking around and things got a little out of hand and-"

"And you do know I can hear you from all the way across the dance floor, right?" Metro Man interrupts, his eyes turning into slits and nose flaring as he gently pushes around Roxanne to step in front of her, one hand still behind him hovering around her protectively.

The blonde's eyes widen even further as he babbles out wordless noise, all but one of his friends already heading for the exit doors. Tilting his head towards the rest of them, Metro Man tells Cody "Why don't you smarten up and follow your pack so the rest of your classmates can _actually_ enjoy themselves tonight?"

"Buh-I wait no," the jock babbled to keep his place, "Why should I have to leave-"

"Because if you don't I'll make sure you do on a stretcher and an escort," the oversized defender threatened while clenching his fists by his sides, the light cracks of his joints sounding like low thunder rumbling.

Watching his back, Roxanne was more concerned over the fact that Metro Man actually _threatened_ someone for the first time that she was aware of. Not even Megamind had ever gotten him that worked up to resort to verbal threats before, and he looked genuinely angry at Cody, who can't seem to run out the front entrance fast enough.

Metro Man was distracted with staring down the door to make sure the group didn't walk back in that it took him by surprise to hear a small but steady amass of clapping coming from the few people that surrounded him at the bar. He looked around in confusion before looking down to Roxanne. "What's going on?" he asks her.

With a drawn eyebrow she looks at him and replies, "Well, you saved me. I mean that's what usually happens, right?"

He looks around with bashfulness and says "But I didn't do anything."

To her it seems out of character for him to cling by her side instead of wander into the crowd and live up the hype he usually brought out whenever people were around, lifting a hand here and there and nodding quietly to comments as opposed to a full on smile and reply, his posture more of someone withholding themselves instead of the usual proud stance he sported.

 _ever so humble?_ she thinks to herself as she realizes something that hits her with the weight of an elephant.

"Wayne," she voices quietly so only he can hear, "Why are your eyes green?"

His eyes widen for a moment before lowering in a slow flutter and a low groan comes through his throat.

"Megamind," he mutters. "Got in a scuffle with him earlier in the industrial district. Set off a bio chemical mutagen to compromise the tertiary structure of my DNA, and all he managed to do was alter my eye color."

"Oh," she says dismayed, keeping her arms around herself and looking out to the dance floor. Not seeing the appealing dancer on the floor she sighed in thought of asking Metro Man to dance, knowing it was the one thing he always joined in but not feeling in the mood to do so herself.

"After tonight, I could really use a drink," he says to himself quietly, but not quiet enough for Roxanne _not_ to hear.

"I thought you can't feel the effects of alcohol so there was no point in drinking?" she asks with furrowed brows.

Pausing the motion of hailing the bartender over, he looks back to her with a look of guilt. "Sometimes it doesn't hurt to try."

Overhead through the speakers, _~with a taste of your lips, i'm on a ride~_ starts pumping onto the dance floor as the bartender brings out a round of shots for the two of them, seeing as her two friends disappeared as soon as Metro Man started giving her his attention.

"I didn't pay for this shit," he mutters to himself as he lowers the shot glass and looks up across the dance hall towards the DJ that's rented for the night.

She brings her own hand down and looks up towards him, knowing his outgoing ( _and very flamboyant_ ) personality he would _never_ give up the chance to have a good time with a Britney Spears song.

 _Are you sure you're alright?_ she almost asks, eyeing him suspiciously when his words catches up to her ears.

"Wait, YOU paid for all of this?" _that explains the open bar_. "Why?"

The same look of guilt comes across his face, and he places the shot glass down next to the other five ( _overkill, much?_ ) on the wooden counter and looks at her from the corner of his eyes.

"I, uh, felt bad that every time we had a battle, your sh- friends, had to re-arrange everything to get the reunion postponed and re-organized and.., I'm sorry I know I should've asked first or at least given you a warning, but I just felt like I had to do something to make up for it."

Watching with a calculated stare she takes a quick shot, gently placing the glass down before reaching for the other and saying "Well, all those times I nagged at you about it was for a reason. And as you can see why, I hated my classmates. Well, all but them," she motions over his shoulder with the shot and he follows the direction of her pointing; across one side of the dance hall Anthony and Alva were still gawking and snapped their gazes away when noticing Metro Man turning towards them, awkwardly trying to fill the void with sloppy movements at an attempt to "dance".

Roxanne takes the opportunity to down the other shot before he could turn back, quickly replacing it with a new one, _because lord knows i'm gonna need all the courage i can muster if this is really happening._

Turning back to her, he apologizes "I just didn't know, I mean I could never have thought you would ever had to struggle through highshool because-"

"Because _you_ never had to deal with being the odd one out, the last one picked.., the black sheep," she cuts in, noticing the way he lowered his head with a hurt look at her choice words.

Composing himself, he looks back up to her. "But that still doesn't allow people to treat you like shit. You're _Miss Roxanne Ritchie_ , you're so much better and higher than these feeble-minded people, you have everything going for you despite, well, you know-" he motions to himself. "I mean, I don't think anyone could bring you down and no one should ever think they're allowed to just because you're Metrocity's _damsel_."

She freezes, staring at him wide eyed as his eyes look around nervously. "What?" is all he asks as she runs the probabilities through her head.

 _okay, he hardly ever just calls me Roxanne but adding "Miss"? Those are some mighty big words he's been using. Metrocity might've been a slip from being around Megamind too much, but_ _shool_ _i mean come on..._

~ _with a taste of poison paradise, i'm addicted to you, don't you know that you're toxic~_

 _fuck it_ \- she thinks, shoots the glass in her hand, reaches for another and drinks _that one_ , places both empty shot glasses on the counter and grabs him by both sides of his face, bringing him down to kiss him as softly as she could while still showing ferocity.

Her eyes were closed, but when she pulls away she can see he never closed his, staring at her with disbelief. _o-kay, i either offended him or..._ "Miss Ritchie?" he breathes out, still hunched over from where she pulled him. _aaand there it is._

She gives him a sly smile before it drops from her face, a look of worry replacing it. "Oh no," she whispers, feeling the familiar burn in the back of her throat that warned her "you _probably_ shouldn't have taken all four of those shots so closely together".

Metro Man recognized the signs and quickly offered, "I think I should be getting you back home."

After having found a stray water bottle behind the counter ( _I hope no one else will be looking for this_ ) she paces herself and asks, "You planning on flying me out?"

He takes one look at her and tells her, "No, you look like you're gonna burst as soon as I start hovering. Need to keep you level, we should probably call a cab. Besides, I don't trust myself after that gas attack."

 _or you're just bluffing because you_ can't _fly-_ she thinks, and trying to call out his bluff says "I can handle it, It's just a few neighborhoods ov-" and pauses, feeling her stomach do a flip and everything turn two notches brighter and louder.

 _fuuu-_ is all she can think before things start coming in and out in blotches; Struggling to walk out the banquet room with her head held high, pushing random buttons on the elevator to prolong the ride down, laughing a little too loud when his head hit the top of the cab door ( _must not be used to the height difference_ ) and somewhere along the way she must've fallen asleep, because the rest is a comfortable blur up to her apartment.

* * *

"Woah, easy now, just... where is your key?" he asks, her head leaning into his shoulder with fluttering eyes, feeling his shifting hands underneath her body holding her up.

 _when did he pick me up?... he's much stronger than i realized if he can do that... oh shit, there's no way Carlos didn't see us come into the lobby this way._

She opens her eyes long enough to see the familiar brown that is her front door and the fringed glove placing the keys into the top lock, his wrist right under her buckled knee.

Another moment of darkness and sounds of struggling when she opens them to the feeling of soft cushions on her back, finding that he's lain her down on the sofa, pulling a stray blanket she keeps tucked between the cushions over her.

His back is towards her as he's walking away to the door when she gives a grunt, kicking the blanket off of her and throwing one of her heels off in the process. He turns to see her struggling to get off the couch, her hair disheveled and dress hiking up her thighs.

"Roxanne, you need to rest, you're drunk."

She grunts again while trying to stand up straight and brush down her glittery dress, taking a deep focusing breath before looking up to him and saying "I don't need rest, I need you."

 _shit, that didn't come out right._

His expression doesn't change as he sighs and walks towards her, standing less than a foot away from her when he reaches a hand down to smooth out her hair.

"Roxanne. Sleep."

"I don't wanna," she says, almost borderline whining. _composure, Roxanne, compose yourself._

She reaches up to his face and hemline where his cape meets his neck. _damn, that feels real._

"Take it off," she mutters, annoyed of the fact that whatever disguise he was using made it seem like it was the real Metro Man. He freezes, reaching up to hold her wrist lightly.

"Look, you're drunk and tired, you need to rest and I need to leave." He puts both hands of hers to her sides and leans down, giving her a small peck on her forehead and pulling away to meet her eyes. "I'll see you later."

He turns again to her door and is halfway through when she calls out, "But, Megamind," and he looks back, a solemn expression on his face.

"He won't bother you tonight or tomorrow. I can promise you that."

She stares at the door closing behind him, the empty _click_ filling the expanse of her empty living room.

* * *

 _stupid. stupid-stupid shit fuck how the hell, gah, FUCK-_ she thinks to herself, smacking her palm against her temple in light bumps to not aggravate her slight headache.

How could she throw herself to him that way? And just when she was making a point to never depend on others or make herself seem like a desperately lonely damsel.

It could've been Megamind, and all she succeeded in doing is scare him off. Or it could've _actually_ been Wayne to which she showed how easy and vulnerable she is and offended him.

 _but who am i kidding? there's no denying it was him._

Feeling tired and worn out she slumps to her half bath to wash off any of the left-over make-up (and make sure nothing else is needed to get rid of) before heading upstairs for a solo session. She finds it peculiar that she can get aroused from either frustration or alcohol in her system, and at the moment with both pumping through her body she can't seem to scrub her face fast enough.

Looking at her reflection, she turns off both handles of the tap and stares hard, black smudges creased into the wrinkles of her eyes, a hint of maroon tinting her lips, bangs matted down from the little water that made it to her hairline. She blindly reaches for the hand towel to dry herself off, never breaking eye contact with the mirror fully aware of what she was about to do, _and why_.

\ _just look at yourself. what do you think you're doing? \_

 _/about to do/_

 _\_ _oh whatever, miss perfect. damsels don't masturbate to their repeat kidnappers\_

 _/who said it would be to him? I'm a good girl, remember?/  
_  
She hangs the towel back in place, giving a hard nod to her reflection before flipping the light switch off and walking to the steps, telling herself over and over _it's a momentary thing, it has nothing to do with Megamind, no nopey-nope nope, it's just the alcohol._  
 _  
_Slowly she makes her way up the stairs to her bedroom as she peels away the layers of clothing with each step ( _bad_ ), starting with her dress and working her way down to her undergarments until she's left with nothing but her earrings ( _very bad_ ). Reaching the corner post of her bed she takes her jewelry off to rest on her bedside stand, sitting on the edge of the mattress and staring down her bare chest as her fingers trace the delicate peppering of freckles across her thighs ( _so, so very bad_ ).

Her palm floats over a beauty mark centered square in the middle of her pelvis, mere millimeters above the soft mound of her trimmed hair. Laying on her back she runs her right fingers over the wisps of hair in a tease, her left hand lingering towards her chest to stroke the dimpling skin of her nipples tightening with sensitivity ( _don't_ ).

She pauses for the shortest half of a second before flicking her areola, the creamy pink of her nipple prickling under the graze of her nails as she props herself on her shoulders and turns to rest properly on her bed, pillow fluffed under her head, lights dimmed low and legs spread apart like a good girl ( _ought to_ ).

She lets the tingling sensations take over, her mind going blank and unfocused on anything in particular, her hands working their way through the familiar movements she's used to through the routine. She feels herself teetering on the edge of pleasure and displeasure, and slows the motions both of her hands are doing, unsure of how to continue before figuring she needs to change her method.

With a sigh her left-hand stops kneading and releases its grip from her breast while her right lays motionless between her moistened lips, fingers frozen in a tease. She stares at the ceiling and decides that, too, needs a change, and sits upright on her bed, right hand still inside her sex. She brings herself to her knees and looks over her shoulder thoughtfully to the wooden headboard, thinking once before turning her entire body towards it and resting her left hand against it, her back arched and her knees spread over the sheets, body parallel to the mattress.

 _Let's try this again._ She closes her eyes, running her fingers back and forth as she imagines ( _visualizes_ ) a tall man ( _short, shorter than you_ ), hard, ripped muscles ( _slender, his arms are lean and slender and beautifully smooth, oh how they curve_ ), his strong legs pounding rough against her thighs ( _soft, so soft and delicate against your skin_ ). She tries to imagine the look on his face as he forced his way onto her ( _gently his body moves, feather light touches_ ) she says that she wants this ( _lies_ ), imagines turning her head over her shoulder to the hard brown eyes of the perfect man staring into her's ( _liar_ ) when the green flash in, those eyes she knows so well from having to face them at least once a week, her fingers rubbing furiously now at the sensations between her legs, a tug-of-war she's having with herself between wanting and shunning when all at once it hits her-

( _him, him, he's there, on your back, blue against peach, one arm curled under your flipped body, gripping your shoulder tight, the other hand laced over yours bare-knuckled on the headboard, his breath is on your neck his teeth graze your ear and he's groaning, oh, that sound in the back of his throat, you want this you know you want this_ )

-"No" she whispers, barely audible over the ruffling of her bed-sheets as she rocks back and forth on her knees, pumping herself with her fingers. ( _yes. stop lying_ ). "I, I-I don't want-" ( _what? say it_ ) "s-stop-" ( _say. it._ )

"Megamind" she shudders, the rhythm in her hand speeding up as her muscles tighten over her fingers. ( _again_ ). "Megamind" she repeats to herself, breathing out his name while her hips seem to start moving on their own, thrusting themselves into her hand.

She imagines his breath ragged on her ear, can almost feel the dance of whispering saying " _You can scream all you wish, Miss Ritchie-"_

And with her twitching hand still inside herself knuckle deep, she convulses as her muscles contract and loosen up with the rolling of her orgasm, a moan deep from her chest carrying out the final "Megamind" that was drawn out with her prolonged climax.

Her pantings fill her apartment as she tries to regain her breath, letting go of the headboard when her knees give out from underneath her, failing to support her weak body as she crumbles onto the sheets. She still has her right hand tucked in between her legs when she feels the blanket of sleepiness crawl over her.

"Shit" she mumbles, the evidence of her feelings towards her captor spread all over the comforters under her. Edging off the bed and capturing her thoughts together, she bundles a corner of the blanket and rolls it over itself to leave it in a heap on the floor for cleaning. _But first-_ she extends her legs out to regain sensation and strength, standing in a stretch and slowly shuffling her way towards her bathroom.

In the shower she sits down in the porcelain tub, too worn out to do anything but let the steaming water roll over her. She stares at the lines the straps of her heels left around her ankles, a faint thought of realization that despite how many times Megamind has her tied up, he never has the ropes tight enough to leave marks afterwards.

 _stop it Roxanne, you had your fun but you know good girls don't go for bad guys, not when they have plenty of other good men to choose from._

But that was the thing. She _didn't_ have any good men to choose from. Sure, she could just as easily go and put herself out there more but most men she met were too intimidated by the thought of Metro Man (or Megamind) to even bother and those who did try were never any better than _Cody_.

Besides, she was tired of being the good girl. She was tired of being told what good girls do, and how they act, and what they wear and who they love and..,

And being a good girl sucks.

There's going to be some struggle with this acceptance, because despite the obvious feelings she has towards Megamind, there is still the slight issue of him being a criminal in the eyes of everyone else, his long rap sheet mostly revolving around her kidnappings and the battles relevant to them.

To everyone else he was the bad guy, a villain, someone who could never be given a second chance to re-enter society, let alone _trusted_. But to her, he's...

Forgiven.

 _Because even Jesus forgave Judas for his sins._

* * *

 **Song notes;**

" _I wanna love you,_

 _but something's pulling me away from you._

 _Jesus is my virtue,_

 _and Judas is the demon I cling to"_

 _\- "Judas" by Lady Gaga,_ _ **Born This Way**_ _, {Main inspiration for the story}_

 _ **.**_

" _sticks and stones may break my bones but chains and whips excite me"_

 _\- "S &M" by Rihanna, __**Loud**_

 _ **.**_

 _"with a taste of your lips, i'm on a ride..._

 _with a taste of poison paradise,_

 _I'm addicted to you,_

 _don't you know that you're toxic"_

 _"Toxic" by Britney Spears,_ _ **In the Zone**_

 _ **.**_

 **  
** **This one took me FOR-EHBERS to get out. I mean I wanted to have this out sooner (as in Gaga at the Super bowl sooner) in celebration of Lady G herself being here in town for a whole week but just had a terrible slump, couldn't put it together fast (** _ **or well**_ **) enough.**

 **Obviously this one hit me as I started belting out along to the song during a car ride a few months back, and I had been itching to get it written out properly. Seeing as I'm kept in the dark without any access to social media or network programming I was hoping she would perform this song for the halftime show (aaand a quick google search says denied), although I don't see why she**

 _ **would**_ **perform this one. Couldn't hurt to get hopes up.**

 **I know I said most will be their own independent AU's, but this one feels like it deserves a follow up, I don't know guys, what do you think? I already have the song picked out and a basic storyline down too, although knowing me I might end up getting caught going elsewhere and leaving you hanging. At least for a few weeks...**

 **I guess I'll crawl back into my cave now, seeing as though I STILL don't have Wi-Fi. I've been out so long I just found out who won the game. A whole two weeks later.**

 **Love you Lots,  
-P.C.**


	3. Houstatlantavegas

**I want to clarify this IS a Drake song, and it was in the works before the Drake & Millie Bobby Brown ordeal. I never really was a fan of his in general, even if his music was, *grits teeth* catchy, but had originally felt obligated to attach an angst filled AU idea to the song many a year ago.**

 **I want to apologize to anyone who would get uncomfortable with the use of one of his songs, but I wanted to crank this one out since it was so short and I just didn't want it lingering around in my WIPs anymore.  
Fuck you, Drake.**

 **11/14/18**

 **"Inspired by" songfic, but it helps if you listen to it at least**

 **Words: 2600. Because I said so.**

 **Mood: Darkness, sadness, longing, Roxanne ready to cut-a-ho at any moment (and Megamind is a-okay with that)**

 **Characters: Megamind and Roxanne. That's it. Oh and a redhead.**

 **"** **Houstatlantavegas** **" by Drake,** **So Far Gone** **, 2009**

 ***Rolls over***

* * *

They called her Temptress, and she was the most beautifully broken thing he had ever seen.

He originally hadn't meant to linger at first. Hell, he hadn't planned on staying any longer than it should've taken to scout out the place for any potential profitability, seeing as it was on the outskirts of a recently overthrown territory he managed to take a hold of.

And yet somehow he was there long enough to hear the music change, hear how the dirty sounds of desperation melted around pure sin, saw the lights filter out from the harsh sharpness the ellipsoidal lamps offered to the soft caress of a followspot being turned on over the center stage.

Long enough to see her standing there. Where she took his breath away with a glance, her strikingly blue eyes peering with disinterest from underneath a black fedora while her leather suit clung to her as a second skin.

One hand on the fedora and the other wrapped around a whip strapped to her hip.

The soft pout of her blood red lips garnered attention; their movements were easily as captivating as watching her hips sway to a needful rhythm, her lips hugging each word that followed the song flowing out of the overhead speakers. Her fluid hands were another form of distraction; dancing, enchanting, caressing the air that surrounded her and beckoning a spell she did not know.

She would crouch, she would raise, she would bend; no matter the movement his eyes stayed fixated on the bloom of her lips at every which way and angle she would grace him with.

He hadn't realized he had been entranced until the crack of the whip brought him back, his eyes finally taking in the sight of her exposed skin. Sometime during his infatuation with her mouth did she shed herself of her clothing; everything gone but the boots on her feet, a pair of velvet briefs concealing her bottom and the snapping whip in her hand.  
As well as that smirk he wanted to devour off her face.

It was at that fated moment he realized he didn't want to claim her as his own, contrarily, he wanted her to stake her claim into him, if she wished it so.

 _Could she ever want it_ he'd think as they locked eyes while she offered herself to the city night after night.

And in the end it was never about her body, the lewd looks her angelic face would shape or the promise of lust and death in her gaze that would keep him returning to her serpents dance.

At least, that's what he kept repeating to himself in the dark of his room after every visit.

Eventually the visits became more regular, almost scheduled, wherein he would get his drink at the bar and sit with his disguise under the dark prior to the queen's arrival. Everyone else's performances never quite matched her level of standards; as a result waiting though every dance prior to hers was trying, if not torturous.

But when she made her way out of the shadows to the spotlight, her movements slow and languid, he'd forget how to breathe. Every time.

In each beginning she would sway her way to the pole, disrobing her outfit layer by layer to reveal herself for her audience. By the time she reached the end of her walk she would twine around the metal bar on stage, completely bared to the flesh for her nightly visitors.

Any fabric she had left on her legs was always guaranteed to drop, but whatever lay underneath had no room for negotiation.

If she was allowed to hold on to any form of dignity, it was hidden within that stretch of fabric that wrapped around her curves of her hips. A secret she shared with no one.

A secret many tried to take.

He held some worry for her safety, as obvious as he would with the amount of attention she captured. There would be few who jested at the opportunity of having her exposed to their pleasure. All talk, really, since the risk of getting killed or at least maimed along the way was too high.

Then there were fewer who actually had the balls to attempt a go at it, if their fear of being spontaneously castrated was non-existent. None ever made it farther than having the bouncer wrap a hand around their neck, if Temptress herself hadn't already gotten to them first with a well-placed swing of her heel.

But really,that college punk that managed to land a hand to her thigh was just _asking_ for a new facial piercing.

The repeating guests that usually kept their distance had been around long enough to know better. To know she offered more than just a show if one behaved. Which was why most nights he would find the room in a standstill when she stepped into the light, straining to listen the tale she had to share.

Her skin told stories, whispered lies, a fantasy she wasn't allowed to own easily spoken through the movements of her body.

And if you looked closely enough, you would be able to hear what she had to say.

Anyone with even a remote sense of conscious thought could see it was all business to her; she hardly took any pleasure from wringing herself out on a nightly basis. If anything could be taken from her facial expressions of disinterested ecstasy, it would be that she's a very convincing performer who knows how to wield a mask to shield those from her shattered reality.

She never showed interest in anyone else, unless they showed interest in her than a few occasions did it catch his eye when she walked through the muted crowds with a guest in tow, on their way to the back-alley exit. And he never raised an eyebrow when she walked back in alone with nothing more than a sprained wrist and sometimes a stiletto missing its heel.

Which is why he had been heartbroken the night she approached him at the bar with that smile that made him want to bear his wrists out to her. Had made small talk he knew would lead to nowhere but the bed. Tilted her head towards the back rooms and lead him by that invisible leash.

Shoved him flat against the back of her dressing room door while stealing his breath and his gun in one swift movement.

She earned his respect that night, although in all honesty he probably would've just handed it over had she asked. She showed no fear, no hesitation at all as her fingers soundly tightened around the grip of the gun without even questioning the glowing weapon itself.

One arm tangled in his coat while pressing into his neck and the other holding the barrel steady underneath his chin, she stared him down with warmth intensity in her eyes that bore into him. More life than he'd ever seen since he first laid eyes on her, really.

This development was-

interesting.

She'd noticed him more often than not the nights he stood in the shadows. Choked him with all the information she had gathered in the back of her head, things she would take in as she put out on stage.

She would've been a great investigator in another life. A damned good interrogator. But as unfair as the city was with her denizens, she always made sure to break down the strongest.

Having felt he humored her enough, he gripped her wrist with one hand as he twisted the gun away, the other gently but quickly placed in the crook of her outstretched arm to fold it into herself and rotate them both, having her back rest against the door instead.

A flash of his teeth, few words spilled between, a twist of his wrist and he was as much exposed to her as she was to the world.

Once he revealed himself to her, she could not keep her eyes off of him from her perch on the stage, as if he hadn't been staring back to begin with.

He didn't bother exchanging the disguise for another, trusted her methods enough to dispel the need for marking the club as his. If she let him walk out of her room alive he at least had the decency to let her take care of things her way.

So long as everything was under control, as it usually was. Usually.

On slow evenings she would invite him to wait out on the comfort of her changing room bed, gifted to each of the dancers private rooms courtesy of the previous mistress who Temptress had mentored under. An offering, she said, for the girls to have a safe place to crash after their mistress had a "talk" with a guest who paid too close attention. And to prove her trust in him, had extended her invitation to what was considered their safe place.

An invitation he did not take lightly.

Slowly she opened up to him, one petal unfurling at a time, until she was comfortable enough to let him see her bloom. In the privacy of her changing room, of course.

"Would there be anything else you would do with your life if you, say, found a reset button?" he asked through the thick smoke lingering in the air during one of their quiet evenings. His blue spirit felt lifted in the sweetness of it all even as he laid still besides her. Never bothered by the act and in a way why would he be? He practically controlled the entirety of the city's supply.

She held her breath in, letting the flow of sticky smoke filter out through her nostrils in a lazy lift.

"Not sure. Hard to imagine what a decent life would be like when all you're used to is shit. Besides, can't really think of anything much better when the pay's this good."

He couldn't help but feel a resonance in her struck cord as she handed him the glass pipe.

"You're good at sticking your nose where it doesn't belong. You could've done some investigative journalism for all I know."

She snorted at that response, a hand running flippantly in her bangs.

"And can you imagine the actual reports? ' This is Temptress, signing off'"

She smiled at that, the line of her lips cutting deep into her cheeks. The dullness never left her glossed over eyes.

He gave a noncommittal shrug into the mattress. "Doesn't sound half bad, could be your alter ego," he defended before tilting his head further backwards with practiced impassiveness.

"What, _is_ , your name anyway?"

She eyed him from her seat, a nervous grind of her teeth the only sign of hesitation. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

"I don't really know mine," he responded without pause. "It could've been 'light' or even 'tektite', but that's just some of what they called me in the days before the black hole-" he said before the sullen quiet overtook him, his eyes suddenly diverting to the ceiling.

She stilled, running her tongue underneath her top lip and taking in a muted sigh.

"People call me Roxie."

He hummed, blankly staring into the ceiling. "Funny," he said after a moment of prolonged silence, letting the quiet of her room suck out any humour the sentence would've carried.

"As Ironic as it is, you don't look any more than just a Roxanne."

Her face froze, the stillness of her chest making him hold his own breath as he waited for, _anything_. Then he heard it. Heard the beauty that was her laughter for the first time, the sound of the sky opening up. His lips slowly stretched into a grateful smile of awe.

He wouldn't have minded if that was the last thing he ever heard in his life.

Most nights ended that way, laying on the bed together sitting in comfortable silence between bouts of needless chatter. Others, he held her in his arms as she shook in pain of memories past.

The one night he found her unconscious he nearly had blood on his hands.

She lay limp against his arms, a barely restrained anger simmering underneath the surface of his eyes. Most of the addicts had already run out at that point, a few lingering in the corners in the ghosts of their former selves. The one that pointed Roxanne out for him stood alongside him quietly, her vibrantly red hair cascading over her slumped shoulders as she held onto herself.

"She does this, goes on these- bingers, every once in a while. Says it helps her," the redhead murmured with a plaintive shrug. "With what other than getting fucked up I don't really know."

He breathed out his frustration and held her against his chest a little tighter, adjusted his grip as he stepped his way over the unconscious bodies of the travel agents he incapacitated on his way in.

He figured he should've come sooner when he got the text, somehow tried to make it to the trap house faster even though he knew he was breaking laws left and right on his way there, social _and_ theoretical.

Getting her home was only slightly harder, seeing as they've never spoken of their respective habitations. Tapping into her phone helped him solve that problem quickly, and if she had any objections to the matter, they would have to deal with it _after_ she sobered up.

On his way to her bedroom, his eyes skimmed over the layout of her apartment without taking anything in. He didn't think it was his place to get to know hers.

He cleaned her up and laid her in bed. Cleared her living area and replenished her kitchen. Watered the neglected windowsill plants before making leave.

When he met her gaze during his next visit she held no face of thanks, absent to the thought of their previous encounter. She rolled a shoulder in a half-effort shrug as she finished off the last of her drink and slunked off the high bar stool. Made way to the hall that led to her room, taking the ache in his chest with her.

She would probably never be able to give him what he wants the most, would never be able to reciprocate the feelings he buried deep inside himself, each layer of filth and lies a weighted cloak over his heart.

But that was okay, when he got to see her genuine smile in the privacy of her dressing room. Was allowed to hear her laugh in those quiet nights laying side by side. The laugh that almost made him think he was alive.

Almost convinced him he was real.

They called her Temptress, and she was the most beautifully broken thing he had ever seen.

And he was hers.

* * *

 **Song notes;**  
 **  
**"Hey there, pretty girl, you know, exactly what you got-  
I don't, blame you at all, you can't resist it-  
'specially when the light's so right, and the money's so tight, and it's coming in every single night-  
she don't wanna leave, leave, leave, leave, leave, leave, leave-  
She just stuck in  
Houstantlantavegas-"  
 **  
** **I hate my life I hate this cold weather I hate not being able to come up with dirp to give you other than *duck quack*.  
So the temp recently went from a scorching satans asshole in the middle of November that was 94* to 32* with ice on my windshield within a week exactly.  
Texas I hate u.  
Also plz person sitting next to me stop eating your pickle with your mouth open for the love of Jibbers Crabst.  
lort give me patience because if you give me strength i will choke a bitch.**

 **With barely restrained murder,  
-P.C.**


End file.
